Warper Development/Cont.

First of all, thanks for the comments on the excerpt that I posted yesterday. That's actually only half of what I've got written so far, but the second half isn't as good as the first, so I didn't want to put too much down.

Anyway, here's a reference picture for how I picture Erin (Corbie by bassexcess on DeviantART) along with some development notes I've got for Erin. I'll probably post more notes as the story progresses and more of the characters are introduced.

Name: Erin Maddox
Birthdate: Sept. 9
Age: 23
Race: Human (Warper)
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Blonde
Build: 5'5, 122 lbs, athletic build
Skin Tone: Fair
Background: Her father was killed trying to defend the boy next door when he was accused of being a Warper. She had a hard time after that. Dropped out of a school, became reckless. At 19, she joined Gaia, the rebellion against the government.
Internal Conflicts: She constantly wonders if Dad would be disappointed in the way she is. She wants to bring down the government, but she knows it isn't what Dad would want her to do. She is fearless. She doesn't want to be, because it makes her reckless, but she can't see anything worse happening to her than what already has. Sometimes she doubts Gaia and wonders if Nature really is as wicked as the government says, but she knows she can only find out if she does it herself.
External Conflicts: The government must be brought down.
Occupation/Education: High school drop-out. Moves jobs often. Currently a bartender at the local pub.
Misc: Collects photos of the world before it changed. She longs for the past, for a world of freedom and happiness. Wears a cheap plastic band on her right ring finger that Dad gave her when she was nine.

I use this outline with most of my characters at some point- even ones I plan on only using for things like forum Roleplays or RPGs with my friends (and it has helped me churn out some great characters I really want to use again sometime). For some people, it's just a waste of time. For me, it helps to flesh out the character and give them the little details that make a person human- for example, the ring that she wears. That has very little relation to the story, but real people have things about them like that, things that don't necessarily relate to the crisis which is the direct center of their life at the moment. It helps me decide on their doubts and desires, the things that go through their head on a day to day basis, their outlook on life itself. This especially important to me when writing in the first person. It's going to sound very different being written by a cynic than an optimist.

Well, since I've got nothing else I dare put down as far as story notes, and since yesterday was boring enough to not document, I guess I'll post the rest of what I've got. If the first part had mechanical issues then this one is even worse, but it moves the story along. Dennis, I'm counting on you telling me how ridiculous it is that a police station wouldn't have a night shift, and I'm also counting on you helping me come up with a good excuse why they wouldn't. :P

“Erin.”
I turn as a familiar voice calls my name, and a thrill runs through my as my boyfriend, Saul, takes hold of me in a tight embrace. We try to keep our relationship a secret, so that forbidden element makes it all the stronger. After a moment, he backs off to look at me, and I can tell he's worried.
“I couldn't get a hold of you this morning. I thought you weren't working until one.”
“I'm not. They made another arrest at my building today. I figured it was best not to stick around.”
He shakes his head, his steely gray eyes crinkled with worry. “I don't like that apartment. It's too dangerous. They watch it too closely. You should come to live with me for a while, at least until things settle down a little.”
“You act like you know for sure that they will.”
He sighs and looks down at the patchy grass, disappointed in my pessimism, but knowing it's no worse than anything he would feel in my position.
“Besides,” I add, “It would be too risky. People would see me there eventually, and they would get suspicious.”
“I don't understand why we have to keep this a secret. It isn't a crime to feel something.”
“As if you would know.” I smile a little at him, knowing that from anyone else that little quip would probably be a mortal offense. From me, it's only a bitter truth buried in a teasing line. Saul is the type that doesn't show his emotions to others easily. I am one of the very rare exceptions.
He smiles a little, but I can tell he really has a public relationship on his mind. “You still haven't answered my question.”
I look away, to the west, in the direction of the vast Pacific Ocean. Vaguely the thought comes to mind that I have never actually been to the ocean; I who have lived in California my entire life. Twenty years ago, some would consider that sort of thing a sin. These days, people don't have time to worry about trivial things like where a person's visited. They can really only let themselves worry about where they're going, and how they're going to get there without being arrested.
“It's too risky,” I repeat, this time with more meaning. “If anyone finds out what I am, Saul, I don't want you to face any of the consequences.”
I can feel his eyes bore into me as he answers. “I can take care of myself. Sometimes I think I'd like a decent brawl with the police.”
“All the same, it would mean disaster for Gaia if you got arrested. Do you know what would happen to them without you? It would be a fatal loss.”
He lets out a long, drawn sigh of defeat, and I know he'll keep his head down and his mouth shut for one more day. Sometimes he can't take it, pretending that he isn't anyone at all, just another civilian. His impatience with his position is a very rare instance, because he's a very intelligent, calculating man, and I know that he has thought over his reasons for faking his entire life often. He's as good as any at hiding his secret identity, his real purpose to living. But sometimes he loses it to the injustice. We all do eventually. Unfortunately, there are a few who lose it at less convenient times.
“What's the agenda for tonight?” I ask, changing the subject to the Gaia meeting scheduled for later.
“Still not concrete, so Sylvie will contact you with the time while you're at work. Watch for her sign.”
I smile and lean back against the tree. “I will. I look forward to seeing you tonight.”
He takes advantage of our solitude to give me a kiss before he leaves. As I watch him walk away, I think about how much I love him, and wonder about a public relationship. I really do want to be with him the way he deserves, but I can't take that risk. Not right now, with as bad as things are.
Several hours later I'm at work, wondering what Sylvie's sign is going to be. Sylvie's a great person, but her talents lie more in her ability to drink practically any man under the table- or, if she can't do that, to injure him badly enough that he falls under the table. I'm worried about her subtlety. Then again, if she didn't have some creative zest for this sort of thing, she wouldn't be a member of Gaia at all. We can't risk having people in our ranks that don't know how to keep their cool and handle themselves. It's bad for the business.
So I spend my time patiently serving up drinks and food at the bar and wiping little rings of fluid off the surface whenever I get a spare moment. Not the most glamorous job in the world, I admit, but it's better than no job at all, which is a mess way too many people have had to deal with lately. The government's really good at finding fault with their own people, and when they're gone they're too slow at replacing them. If they don't start trusting people soon, we won't have any government left. Of course, I really shouldn't be one to complain.
I spot Sylvie making her way into the bar and I monitor my behavior, making sure my gaze doesn't dwell on her longer than anyone else. She sits down in front of me and I toss my rag onto the surface behind me, ready to take an order.
“Beer, whatever you've got,” she commands. “Oh, and throw this away for me, would you?”
She hands me a booklet of matches from a nearby motel. I turn to the tap to pour her a big frosty, and ever so discreetly glance at the inside of the booklet.

23

It isn't much to go off of, but it's enough. 2300 hours, translating in military jargon to 11:00 P.M. At the last meeting we already decided that we'd be having it in Sylvie's basement, under the pretense of a get-together between old friends. As the matchbook falls into the garbage, I turn around and give Sylvie her drink.
“Thanks, love,” she says with a tossed wink, then slides some money to me across the bar. “Keep the change.”
I just smile at her sly insinuations. Sylvie likes women, I've known that for years. But as much as she likes to use that fact to play around with me, play is all it is. I know she isn't attracted to me- when she's attracted to a woman, she has a habit of clearing her throat a lot, and not being quite as witty as her usual pithy self. She doesn't realize how easy it is to see- but maybe it's just easy for me because I've known her for so long, and because I've seen the real her, thanks to Gaia.


Chapter Two:

The meeting is like a breath of fresh air. Everyone always looks forward to them, because they can let loose and not worry about someone hearing the wrong thing and turning them in. There are about twenty people at this meeting, but this is just a fraction of those in the area. If we had any more, things would start looking suspicious, so everything important that gets decided is passed on later to all of the other members by the ones who were here. It's risky sometimes, but for a resistance group this large and this illegal, it's the only thing that works. Some members have even developed their own codes for each other- but we don't keep anything official, because if it gets cracked, we don't want everything coming down on us.
We. Us. I sound so high and mighty, don't I? I have my reasons. Mainly, Saul is the regional face of Gaia. He doesn't do all of the heavy duty work- a lot of that is delegated out to others, on the basis that if he were to be captured, we'd still be able to run things to a very efficient standard. But he makes most of the executive decisions. He leads all of the heavy assaults, and he takes personal responsibility for anything that goes wrong. Which is another reason he struggles so much with hiding. After years of watching attack after attack fail, it's starting to weigh down on him, and I can tell he's beginning to worry. He isn't doubting his cause- he would never give up on the resistance that his parents started- but he's beginning to doubt his adequacy for his position. I do what I can to reassure him, but there isn't much to be done when we have so little time together, and even less time together alone.
I stand against the wall of Sylvie's basement. It's not exactly furnished to my taste, housing a couple of couches, a poker table, and a fully loaded bar, but I don't have any room to complain. I suppose I'm just so tired of being in a bar all day that I don't really look forward to being in one all night, too. Besides, all I own is a crummy two room apartment. This is twice anything I could ever afford.
I slip away from my pessimistic thoughts as a warm arm slides around my waist. I close my eyes and lean against Saul's firm shoulder, taking comfort in the fortress of strength that surrounds us whenever he is with me. He's all I have left in the world; I sometimes think I might not have the will left to even fight for Gaia without him there to fight with me. And he feels exactly the same way. We support each other, and as long as we have that connection, we are unstoppable.
“Ready?” he whispers to me.
“Always,” I respond, a smile creeping across my face. We hold together for a moment, then reluctantly I step away and sit on one of the couches while he positions himself at the head of the room, just in front of me, and clears his throat.
“SHUT UP!” Sylvie shouts at the group, unceremoniously calling the meeting to order. The Gaia members file into seats or lean against walls, and silence permeates the room.
“Thank you, Sylvie,” Saul begins. “Alright, so you all know that the local division has a bombing planned for tomorrow night. The target is the police station on Washington Avenue. Erin, Sylvie, and I will be leading the attack ourselves. Those assigned to accompany will meet us at the museum two blocks south of the station at 2200 hours, and from there we'll head to Robinson's residence where he'll have our gear ready for us. Erin, I'll be checking with you later on the cloaking, and Harris, I'll need a final report on the explosives you built for us. Questions?”
A man named Luke raises his hand, a look of heavy concentration on his face as he undertakes the same difficult task we all have- to try and predict the outcome of tomorrow's attack. “Where will the group be heading afterwards?”
“Everyone involved with the incident will make their way to Tuttle Bridge in Terrace Park. We have a station set up underneath where the group will clean up, and one by one make their way home. Jenkins, our operative inside the station, will be letting us know the degree of damage later on.”
A woman at the back of the room asks the next question. “Isn't there a night shift at the station?”
“No,” Saul replies. “We chose this station specifically for that reason. Remember, our goal isn't to kill. We may not agree with an officer's choice to do what he does, but most of the time it's out of survival, not out of blood lust. They have a right to live as much as any of us do. We want to make a point, and it's not going to help our cause to orphan some officer's five year old daughter.”
An uncomfortable silence follows that statement as the members reflect on its gravity. Most of the people here are dedicated to Gaia because they've lost someone to the police and government.

Bleh. Yeah. Peace out.